What Happens in New Vegas Doesn't Always Stay There
by kellyanne2192
Summary: After her one-night-New-Vegas-stand with Connor Monroe, Charlie can't wait to rub Bass' face in it - even if she's not quite sure why. But when Bass leaves the bar to get away from her and Charlie follows him, Bass decides he's finally had enough. (Charloe)
1. Chapter 1

"You are kidding me. You have got to be kidding me!"

Charlie couldn't help but smile a little at the genuine outrage in his voice. Shifting up into a sitting position, she looked for the man behind the voice, an amused smirk carefully plastered across her face. It was easy to pick him out from his surroundings, even in the dark. Sebastian Monroe was one of those rare people that could never go unnoticed.

Especially when they were royally pissed.

When her eyes found him after a moment of a searching, she saw exactly what she always expected to see when she looked at him – cool leather jacket, curly blond hair, dangerous blue eyes, and- Well that was different.

His expression, usually so condescending and detached, was nothing short of furious.

Pulling the blanket just a little closer, suddenly hoping she was fuly covered, Charlie almost didn't notice the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It felt too unfamiliar – it felt like regret.

* * *

Later that night- or maybe it was early the next morning… Charlie honestly couldn't recall, she strode into Barkers, fully intending to get so drunk she wouldn't remember what an appalling mistake she'd just made.

After his dad had stormed off, Connor had asked her if she wanted to come back to his hotel room with him. When she refused, saying she needed a drink, he'd all but glued himself to her side and offered to join her.

A very short, two-word sentence later and she'd sent him on his way, fuming.

Cursing herself under her breath, she began to ask herself, not for the first time that night, why the Hell she'd ever thought it was a good idea to sleep with Monroe Jr. A clingy, wannabe dictator following her around was one headache she didn't need.

And then there was Monroe.

The fact that it would piss him off had always been a huge plus. But it hadn't just pissed him off. There was something in his eyes when he'd found the two of them lying there together…

It was something Charlie had only seen once before.

When Monroe had burst through the door to that seedy bar and seen her, drugged out of her mind and surrounded by men who could barely take their hungry eyes off of her. It hadn't been rage - that wasn't a strong enough word for it. It had been wrath and outrage and a terror so strong it had shaken her to her core.

Seeing that again tonight, it had given Charlie the strangest need to get away from Connor, as fast as she could. To curl up in a blanket somewhere, where no one could see her and-

Try not to fall apart.

Shaking her head, Charlie was grateful when the memory passed.

Hell, if there was anyone half-way decent in New Vegas, she'd probably go screw them right now just to convince Connor, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that their little hook-up didn't mean jack. Instead, for lack of a remotely-acceptable one-night-stand candidate, Charlie stalked toward her usual bar for a little peace and quiet. At least the bartender at Barker's wasn't a total asshole like the rest of them.

But that plan, like so many of her best ones, died a quick and painful death when she saw Monroe himself sitting at the far end of the bar, glaring bitterly at the five empty glasses in front of him. Reaching for his sixth, which the bartender was wise enough to bring before he asked for it and leave without making any attempt at conversation, Bass didn't even notice she was there.

Breath catching strangely in her throat, Charlie forced her eyes to stay as far away from him as possible as she walked over to the bar and slid onto her usual stool. Telling herself he was well on his way to being too drunk to recognize anyone, let alone her, she ordered a Jack Daniels and tried to relax.

Four glasses later, she was still as tense as when she'd walked in. Her judgment was maybe the only thing that the alcohol had actually affected.

Said alcohol convinced her it was a good idea to stare straight at Monroe for a solid minute. Until he caught her looking.

All the alcohol in the world couldn't have kept her from jerking away from his gaze with a less-than-ideal level of subtlety. Suddenly fascinated by her own crystalline glass of whisky, Charlie tried to ignore the fact that while all she wanted to do now was look at Monroe, he'd given her no more than a cursory glance before turning back to stare into his his own half-full glass.

Too lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the way his hand tightened on the glass, or how he didn't take another drink from his eighth glass of Daniels when he was easily capable of consuming twelve.

Another few minutes passed, the noise of the bar surrounding them both, until the sound of Bass' stool scraping against the wood floor brought Charlie's head snapping up. Tossing a diamond to the bartender, he muttered something about keeping his tab open and then, shrugging on his leather jacked, headed for the exit.

Not sure why she did it, Charlie immediately hopped up – swaying slightly – and tailed him out the door before it even closed. She could tell he'd heard her following him by the way his shoulders never relaxed. Quickening her pace, she watched him turn down an alley and then followed without hesitation.

Rounding the corner, she saw him, standing in the shadows, his back to her. Immediately, she stopped too, waiting. She somehow managed to outlast him, and nearly sighed in relief when he finally broke the silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Hey guys! So I just wanted to warn you that there is a bit more physical intimacy in this chapter than I am necessarily comfortable with. I wouldn't have written it this way except that I felt it was important to show where the characters are emotionally with one another, and this was the best way to do that.**

"What do you want, Charlotte?" Bass' voice was cold and careless – but there was a definite edge to it that even he couldn't hide.

"I don't want anything, Monroe. Not from you anyway." She sneered at his back, suddenly furious that he hadn't even bothered to turn and look at her. "Maybe I should ask what you want." Her voice took on an edge of its own. "What _is_ it that's got you so… upset." The word was clearly an understatement. Enough to make him turn around and face her, his eyes more murderous than she'd ever seen them.

Still, that same thing that had made her look at him, that had made her follow him out of the bar and into the streets, made her push him even closer to the edge.

"I thought you'd be happy." She fixed Monroe with her most winsome smile. "After all, since you and Miles were never an official thing, this is almost as good, right?" Her eyes lit up with a strange, wicked light. "Miloe, generation 2.0-" But before she could finish, Monroe was shoving her back against the alley wall, his eyes dark with fury. She wasn't sure how he'd reached her so quickly, but she forgot all about that when her gaze met his. His strong hands held tight to her, one gripping her waist and the other pressing down relentlessly on her shoulder. Their faces were no more than two inches apart – so close Charlie could taste the alcohol he'd been drinking for the past hour on her tongue.

And despite everything, Charlie couldn't help but notice that they were surrounded by absolute silence, with no one else in sight.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Charlie began to feel the first stirrings of fear in the pit of her stomach.

What had she been thinking?

Sure, Monroe may've signed on to help them in their suicide mission against the Patriots, but that still didn't mean she could – should – trust him. He was Sebastian _freaking_ Monroe – he'd done some crazy shit for a living before the Tower, not to mention the fact that he was responsible for the death of millions-

Monroe moved closer, his grip tightening.

 _Oh, shit._

Alarm shot through Charlie, even as a small area in the back of her mind was already searching for the appropriate final words to say before Monroe finally got around to killing her.

It's not like she hadn't been expecting it. Hell, for a while she'd even been hoping for it. There was something satisfying, Charlie thought, about being proved right about someone. Bass would kill her, like he'd always planned to. She'd die, just like she'd always planned to. The great President Monroe would've killed yet another Matheson, and the world would keep right on spinning, and nothing, _nothing_ out of the ordinary would've happened.

In those few moments, when time seemed to cease, it wasn't fear that held Charlie still and silent. She'd never been afraid of Monroe. Not really. Maybe momentary flashes of panic, but the only thing that had ever kept her up at night was the thought of losing her family. But since that wasn't really an issue anymore… Danny and her dad were dead. So was Nora. And Miles and Rachel would finally get together after everything finally settled down, if things settled down, and- Charlie blinked slowly, her heart rate slowing to a dull thudding rhythm.

And then she'd be alone.

Oh, she'd be happy for them, two of the only people left that she cared about finally finding some kind of happiness, but…

For Charlie, when life had backed her up against a wall, she'd always been ready to fight her way out. Neither danger nor fear had ever kept her from pushing back against whatever forces she'd faced.

But something about staring up into a pair of familiar eyes – eyes you'd long suspected would be the last things you'd see – took the fight right out of you. It was a feeling of the inevitable finally coming around to play itself out.

And, Charlie supposed, it was a certain kind of relief.

She raised her chin slightly, never taking her eyes off of Monroe. He was still looking at her with the same intensity, seemingly ready to end it all as soon as he'd worked out whatever troubling thought had caused that subtle crease between his brows.

So she could wait, wait, wait – wait for him to kill her, for him to laugh at her and call her pathetic. Wait for him to curse her, or wait for him to-

But, to be honest, Charlie had never really been the patient kind.

Better to get it over with.

"What's the matter, Monroe," Charlie asked, her voice soft and mocking. "Too scared to kill someone who might actually fight back?"

God, she hoped he'd do it soon. She was so tired.

His lips parted in surprise.

"You want me to kill you?" He looked genuinely shocked, like he hadn't even considered the possibility, and even if she hadn't bought the horrified expression sparking in his eyes, the roughness of his voice was to her, somehow, undeniable proof. But proof of what, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Well, I don't want to stand here _with you_ all night, Monroe. So either get on with it," She leaned in closer, her breath mingling with his. "Or get the Hell off of me."

It was strange. For a moment at least, he didn't react. Like whatever she'd said had caught him totally unawares. But they all knew that wasn't true didn't they? Mathesons and Monroes, at each other's throats until the end of time – it was the way the world worked. It didn't matter that they'd formed a tenuous alliance. Alliances were formed and broken every day

If there were one thing Charlie'd learned over the past year, it was that. After all, hadn't she and Monroe – the man she'd dreamed of killing for so long – been fighting side by side for weeks now?

Suddenly he smiled. It was so unexpected and so strange that Charlie nearly missed how strained it looked.

"Second best."

"What?" By instinct, alarms blared in her head, reminding her it was rarely a good thing when Monroe smiled. She tried to catch back up with the conversation she hadn't meant to have.

"Oh, you and Connor together would be the second best thing," he replied flippantly. His smile didn't dull for a moment when Charlie tried halfheartedly to push him away. When he didn't budge, her palms began to sweat.

 _Oh God, did he just… make a joke?_

"Oh yeah?" Too surprised to make much of a comeback, she licked her lips, trying to keep the sudden nerves out of her voice. "And the first would be…?" Monroe didn't say anything. Instead, his gaze flicked down to her mouth, before returning to her eyes. Charlie's lips unconsciously parted, as she stared at him in shock. She watched, numb, as he slowly bent his head down toward hers, his mouth quirked into a small, devilish smile. Swallowing down her rising panic, she barely had time to catch her breath before his lips closed over hers.

For a moment Charlie was too surprised to feel anything, but after that she felt far too much. His lips were warm and inviting, not at all like the man himself. As his mouth pressed down on hers, his hand slowly loosened from its grip on her shoulder and instead began traveling the length of her arm, his fingertips brushing lightly against her skin and raising goose bumps. Unconsciously, she made a surprised humming noise in the back of her throat. She felt him pause, his steady heartbeat suddenly very loud in her ears. But she supposed that's what it sounded like when you kissed someone tall. Your head by his heart, your ear pressed in close to his chest when his mouth moves against yours…

And suddenly, before she really knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back.

Her stiff, reluctant joints came alive as heat shot through them, starting at her hips and racing through her whole body. She brought her arms up to wrap around his neck- but then she stopped. After a moment's hesitation, she wrapped them around his waist instead, her hands slipping underneath the hem of his t-shirt. She didn't stop herself as her fingers began tracing the muscles of his lower back. They seemed to tense under her touch, and she could feel him shudder slightly where her skin met his.

Instantly on guard, she started to pull back. For some reason she had the sudden need to see his face – see what he was thinking. But before she could, his hand settled at the small of her back, pulling her back to him. And though their lips had never parted, she could feel the change in him immediately. His lips were harder now, more demanding. She could feel his sudden anger. At her probably, but with Monroe, who knew?

But rather than pull away, Charlie pushed back.

Damn it, well she was angry too.

Her lips parted, and she quickly caught his bottom lip between her teeth. It was gratifying to hear his sharp intake of breath, but more than that it was- a relief. This, she knew how to handle.

She bit down slowly on his lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to earn a low growl from him. His arms tightened around her like a vice and she suddenly felt more powerful than she'd ever felt in her life. She had Sebastian Monroe in her arms. She'd made him crave her. She could have him on his knees if she wanted.

Instead, an unexpected surge of joy flooded through her. Something about simply being able to make someone happy – even if that someone was Monroe – made her feel lighter than she had in months. And that counted for more than some power trip.

Charlie pressed closer to him, her fingers still exploring the curve of his back, and her lips really tasting his for the first time.

They weren't really so different, he and she.

Charlie's hands faltered, and her breaths became more shallow. Where had that thought come from? Charlie mentally shook herself for what she'd almost let herself consider.

The two of them- this, whatever _this_ was… it wasn't something either of them would talk about in the morning. If there was even anything to talk about.

Hell, if you asked either one of them about what they'd done tonight, they would probably both swear they hadn't even seen one another. They'd both passed out in a bar somewhere – _different_ bars, of course. Because why would two people who hated each other, like they both did, ever even consider…

Shutting out those dangerous thoughts, Charlie dug her nails into his skin, barely noticing when his back arced, pushing her further into the wall behind her. She threw herself against him, hoping he would lose control soon, so neither of them would have to think about it anymore. So they could both have a few minutes of pleasure and peace.

Her own motions became less and less controlled, her head swimming as she breathed him in. In turn, his hands came to rest in her hair, fingers threading through and brushing her neck. Her heart rate spiked strangely. Shifting her head until her lips were pressed against his neck, she felt his pulse racing under her mouth.

She reached for his belt-

His breathing changed. Everything changed.

His body tensed and his hand caught hers before she could even unbutton his pants. His other hand, having pulled away from her, was now braced on the wall behind her as he leaned forward, his head low, trying to even out his breath.

When he let go of her hands, she reached for his pants again, but this time he caught and held her with both hands, his eyes warning her not to try again.

"Dammit, Charlotte!" His voice was low and harsh, and it cut through her focus, returning her to reality.

The perfect, hazy feeling lost, Charlie smiled up at him seductively, her lips parting a little. But his eyes didn't change. Didn't even dart down to look at her lips like she knew he wanted to.

With one last ditch effort, she spread her hands wide, keeping them in full view to show Monroe she wasn't going to try assaulting him again. Instead, she laid them on his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders, down his back, watching his eyes darken several shades with shallow satisfaction.

But he took a step back and she lost her hold on him completely. His hands hung safely by his sides, clearly ready to intercept any more of her advances if the need arose. Staring down at his feet, Monroe didn't look at her for a full minute. And when he did, she knew she'd lost the battle.

It was over, and she knew when his hands moved to rest lightly on her biceps it was only to make sure she kept her distance.

"Charlie, I…" His voice was more uncertain than she'd ever heard it, and for a brief moment she glanced up at him, hoping there might still be a chance that tonight-

But his eyes were wide with shock. Clearly he was assessing his sanity, and most definitely hers. Apparently neither of them would be doing anything worth regretting tonight.

A hard lump was fast building in Charlie's throat, making her grateful he was at a loss for words.

She didn't have anything to say to him anyway.

But even as the sudden bitterness swelled, the icy shell around her heart nearly cracked in half, because – God help her – only a moment ago she'd really and truly wanted him. Monroe.

She'd wanted to be with him like she'd never wanted anything before – and not just because it would drive her to distraction.

There was something more behind it-

Pushing that thought away, Charlie let her expression go blank.

"Too bad you couldn't get it up, Monroe." Lips curling into a smirk, she shrugged carelessly out of his hold and forced her eyes to meet his. She'd honestly never seen him this pissed. The frustration and… pain… in his eyes made something inside of Charlie snap. "Maybe your son is still around."

Whatever she'd seen a moment before, the anger in his expression quickly won out. Belatedly, Charlie realized that her whole body felt frozen, but the balmy night air made that unlikely.

A bath. What she needed was a hot bath. Then, maybe, she'd feel better. At the very least it would take her mind off of things for a while. Maybe she could forget that she'd just shot her whole world to Hell for a reason she didn't even understand.

Needing to get away from him, Charlie tried to push past Monroe, shoving his shoulder as she went. Quicker than anything, Monroe's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Watch it, Charlie."

"Or what, _General_?" she spit back, her lips curling. She didn't think her heart was even pumping blood anymore. It felt like straight venom instead. His eyes widened in shock and a moment later he let go of her, his brows draw together in concern or confusion – Charlie didn't bother to see which.

"You're insane." His words were quiet, maybe even unconscious, but she heard them all the same, and they sent another shockwave through the ice.

But, like usual, she ignored it. At least for now.

"Aww, don't give me too many compliments, Monroe. Otherwise, I might start to think you actually like me." She gave him a sudden, dangerous smile. "And then, who knows what might happen."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sooooo sorry it's been so long since I've updated! Can't wait to continue this and my other stories. Please let me know what you think!**

Connor Monroe stood motionless in the shadows, trying to come to terms with what he'd just seen. His dad and… _Charlie?_

"What an absolute shitshow…" Otherwise speechless, Connor watched Charlie shove past Monroe and head toward the street. Ducking behind an old dumpster, Connor was sure neither of them knew he was there – especially when Charlie passed by him without a glance, her blue eyes cold and distant. Only when she got close enough could he see that she was shaking hard. She looked like she was going into shock. Moving at a steady pace that seemed a bit unnatural, she quickly disappeared around the corner of the building.

For a moment, Connor almost went after her. Some long-forgotten trace of pity stung him and nearly made him forget the fact that he was seething.

But instead, he backed further into the shadows, and ground the heels of his steel-toed boots into the gravelly dirt.

Where the _hell_ had this even come from? Hadn't _he_ and Charlie been getting closer for weeks? Hadn't she finally started to see _him_ as more than Monroe's son, the heir to eternal Matheson mistrust?

 _Apparently not._

And _apparently_ that mistrust didn't exclude any Monroe from a good-old Matheson screw after all.

In a daze, Conner's eyes were drawn down to the ground, to the light reflecting in the still-shiny tips of his shoes.

These boots… Monroe had made a joke as soon as he'd bought them, something about overcompensating-

 _Like hell. Look's like you're doing a little overcompensating yourself, Daddy-Dearest. Screwing a girl half your age – a girl who just happens to be your boy-toy's niece._

Unfortunately, even witty sarcasm wasn't enough to cover the sting of rejection and betrayal.

Charlie had said the night they'd spent together was a one-time-thing. A one-night-stand and then _terminado_. But he'd hoped, at least, that he'd been the only one tonight.

 _Apparently not._

Jaw clenching, Conner tried to keep a reign on his temper, but it was hard when he was only now beginning to realize what an idiot he'd been. All along, he'd thought they hated each other, that his father and Charlie could barely stand to be in the same room with one another…

Clearly, he'd gotten it all wrong. But his eyes were wide open now.

Now the only thing he wasn't clear on was which of them he hated more.

Turning back towards the alleyway, Connor realized that his father still hadn't moved. His back to the direction of Charlie's quick escape, the elder Monroe stood in silence, head down and hands slack at his sides. Connor's own hands curled into fists.

The two of them probably had quite a laugh, baiting him, watching him want her – well neither of them were laughing now.

Sneering at his _padre_ _patético_ , Connor turned his back on him and followed the path Charlie had taken, already anticipating the accusations he'd lay at her feet.

* * *

Still facing the darkened, dead-end alley, Bass found he could barely stay standing. The stark silence that surrounded him and filled his senses was an illusion. Bass knew that the Vegas nightlife was still in full swing, even if it was a little less enthusiastic than it had been hours before, when the men were still sober and the women fresh. But even with that slight sag in moral, there were surely still plenty of people desperate enough to be out this late. Or perhaps, early was more accurate.

Yet Bass heard nothing. He felt nothing. Not the dampness of the wind-chilled sweat that still clung to his shirt. Not the burning heat that still sent shivers down his spine. Not the waves of shock and regret that were slowly washing away any chance he'd ever had to make amends.

It was over. It was all over.

The hope of getting his brother back – gone.

The dream of peace between Matheson and Monroe – gone.

And Charlie… gone, stealing some essential piece of him away with her. His sanity perhaps. And all without meaning to, he was sure – as much as she'd experienced and as world-weary as she'd become, she had no idea how she'd affected him.

Could never know – not if he wanted there to be any chance of them continuing on together as they had been. She was the best partner he'd had since Miles, the only one he'd been able to really trust since his brother's betrayal.

He buried his face in his hands, trying hard to focus on breathing.

His son could leave any day, as soon as he realized an empire was an unlikely inheritance.

And Miles was only waiting for him to make an unforgivable mistake, and then he'd let Rachel drag him away by the balls.

But Charlie… after all he'd done, after everything he'd done _to her…_ she'd been the one to convince Rachel to spare him. She'd been the one to save his life – that night of his execution, and countless times before and since.

When she was with him – it was indescribable. The shift from utter isolation to camaraderie that he felt whenever she was near was something even Miles couldn't give him anymore.

She was the only one he could really count on. She was the only one he could trust.

No matter what he did now, he couldn't lose her.

Because he knew. He _knew,_ that if he were the man he once was – before this hellish world he'd done more than anyone to create had ruined him – it would have been his heart she'd taken with her when she'd left just now.

* * *

 _You're Monroe's bitch…_ Duncan didn't know how right she'd been. Charlie hadn't known either until tonight.

Unfamiliar words and feelings swirled in her mind and heart as she shoved her way into the first bar she found. Maybe with enough alcohol, they would stop altogether.

 _Here's frickin hoping._

About an hour later, Charlie stumbled out of whatever bar she'd managed to stumble into after what she could easily rank as one of the stupidest things she'd ever done – but that was before she'd had another few drinks that helped her forget the embarrassment she'd felt only an hour earlier. Embarrassment… Was that the right word for it? She would have been embarrassed if she'd stripped and given someone a lap dance. She would have felt _embarrassed_ if she'd gotten so drunk she cried at the sight of the stray puppies running through the muddy streets, looking for a place to hide from the sick drunks chasing them.

But kissing Monroe?

This wasn't embarrassment.

It. Was. Hatred.

She _hated_ him. Hated herself for letting him see her like that – so weak and willing, pathetic, pliant, grasping and empty-

But not anymore – because thank God, after her second bender of the night, she didn't feel anything anymore.

Head rolling back on her shoulders, Charlie surveyed the street before her, holding the doorframe more for support than effect. Apparently, she'd wound up back at Barkers, which made sense. Somehow her body was always drawn here like a magnet wherever she was. It used to be because it was where she knew Bass always liked to go–

Shoving off the doorframe as she shoved down that thought, Charlie clumsily flipped off the few low-lifes who'd gathered around her, each hoping to "walk her back to her place," and tried to appear a little more alert than she really felt.

Stumbling through the dim streets, Charlie could hear them discuss it, hear them decide, hear them start following her.

But – after everything – she realized that she almost didn't give a damn.


End file.
